


Of Gods and Monsters

by silbecoo



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, F/M, Greek gods, Hades - Freeform, Hades and Persephone, Multi Chapter, Persephone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:57:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6567265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silbecoo/pseuds/silbecoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is the God of the Underworld, quietly ushering honorable souls to the Elysian Fields while ensuring the evil ones start their time in Tartarus as soon as possible. He doesn't want or need anyone to care about, until one day the beautiful Daughter of Demeter needs him. He can't ignore his fate, and neither can she.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

CH1  
Karen had always known there was magic in the world. A spark glowing like an ember inside of her, nestled down beside her heart. When she walked over the dingy sidewalks in the city, humming long forgotten songs from her childhood, she could feel that same energy. It clung to the periphery of the world around her, blurry at the edges.

It wasn’t in the crumbling gray edifices of the buildings she passed, or the plate-glass windows that threw back her cold reflection. It was in the ivy that fought to climb up over the wrought iron fences along the streets, in the persistent blades of grass that made their home among the cracks in the sidewalk. When she passed anything green and living she could feel it call out to her. Out of the corner of her eye she sometimes thought she could see plants twitch to life, the verdant colors suddenly brighter for a moment, golden heads of dandelions turning in her direction as though the blonde locks flowing down her back were actual rays of sunshine.

With this knowledge of magic also came a deep sadness. She soon realized no one else could feel it. Certainly her angrily bellowing father didn't feel the pulsing life of the natural world around them like she did. To other people the city was just an industrial hellscape to be endured. Frowns constantly pulled at the corners of their mouths, a blue sadness enveloping everyone she came into contact with. They walked to work with heads down, never seeming to feel the warmth of the sun, never seeking out the little patches of nature sprinkled throughout the city.

She supposed it was a good thing her father couldn’t be bothered to pay her any mind, that he kept his distance. Loneliness was a small price to pay. He wasn't a gentle and loving man, his soul a withered thing, beaten down by years of bitterness. The only passion inside of him was rage, and even that only surfaced when Karen made the mistake of asking about her mother.

Karen had no memory of Demeter, just a faded Polaroid found in the back of an old jewelry box, a single name written in sharpie across the bottom. The smiling woman looked so much like the face she saw in her own bathroom mirror, waves of bright blonde hair, bottomless blue eyes. That same spark of magic was glinting in their depths too. Karen was certain that the woman had loved her.

She felt closest to her mother when walking through Central Park, the tree branches dancing in the breeze, ducks squawking in the boat pond, rows of spring flowers bowing briefly to her as she passed by. Sometimes she even fancied that her mother spoke to her, the soft and melodious voice of a woman floating by on a warm draft of air, the feel against her skin like the gentle caress of warm hands.

She could feel her mother in the dappled sunshine falling on her face. The park was vibrant, sounds of laughing children carrying bright and clear across the meadow-like clearings. She never felt alone here, even though she spoke to no one, it was like she was surrounded by a huge extended family, the faint tendrils of magic collecting into a messy tangle of warmth around her.

She liked to wander into the more secluded areas of the park. She never found it odd that these places were so devoid of people, that the plant life looked strangely untamed. The incongruity struck her as beautiful. Today wasn't any different. The moment she stepped into the spot calling her name, all the sounds of the city fell away, muted as though passing into a soundproofed room. A small grassy clearing right in the middle of a wobbly circle of trees was lit with sunshine. The golden rays filtered through the leaves above, leaving a mottled pattern on the ground.

In minutes she was spread out on the soft grass, hair fanned out like a halo. The messy tangles of magic she always felt in the park finally finding some pattern and coiling around her.

Eyes fluttering shut, she drifted, the beginnings of a peaceful dream settling around her. It was always the same, the warmth of unconditional love, the brightness of her mother's smile. She'd found a ritual, one that made her feel like she understood all the strange things happening around her. But her drifting was jerked to an abrupt halt by the suddenly urgent voice of her mother, more tangible than ever before. A single word quivered against Karen’s eardrums. “RUN!”

Her eyes snapped open, sitting up to search for the source of danger, but it was too late. Three men were slipping quietly into her haven. They wore predatory smiles, one man fingering the sharp edge of his bowie knife. She knew who they were, not their names or histories, but the vile deeds painted across their faces.

They were spoiling this place, their dark presences sapping all the warmth from the air. She called out in indignation, the heat of it rising up through her, “What are you doing here?”

It was a mistake, all three pairs of eyes trained on her, lighting up with a wicked kind of joy. She could see the evil swirling inside of them, the lack of concern for human life. To them, she was nothing but a woman to be taken advantage of, a soft thing to crush and tear apart for their own amusement. She heard it again, the firm and adamant voice of her mother. “Run!”

-

Frank felt it the moment she passed into the shimmery borderland between earth and the underworld. He’d been feeling it for years, her daily jaunts to the park, the quiet hour or so she spent in limbo before vanishing for another day. He was tied, by some magic even he didn’t understand, to all the entrances to hell. Thousands of souls a day passed through the portals, and it was usually a one way trip, but her softly glowing presence always mysteriously tripped back into the world of living.

He’d grown used to it, the little clench in the pit of his stomach when she appeared. The hour she always spent dreaming was the closest thing he had to a moment of peace in his day. All of the city's anguish roiling around him was beaten back, muted to a pleasant degree. If he concentrated, he could sometimes see her faint outline, never really able to make out any details, just a mass of yellow hair, limbs spread out on the forest floor.

Sometimes her timing was bad though. Like today for instance. When she’d popped across the border, relieved joy radiating out from her like waves of heat, he'd been honing in on a serial rapist. The man was nearly in his crosshairs. Well, not literally in his crosshairs. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used a gun to dispatch scum like this. It wasn’t really necessary, the power of barely contained rage coursing through him like a swollen river. A flick of the wrist and the concentrated stream of unadulterated vengeance would slam into the offender like bolt of lightning. It was similar to the method Frank’s prick of a brother used to dole out his petty punishments, but Frank liked to think his own brand of killing lacked the particularly arrogant flair that Z’s had.

Unfortunately, the woman’s poor timing shattered his concentration, and he blinked, for half a second. The man disappeared, his despicable thoughts fading away into a cacophony of a thousand other voices. Concentration broken, Frank put his coffee down and sat back in the little wrought iron chair, resigning himself to an hour of foreign-born pleasant thoughts. Brightly colored shapes and lilting melodies filled the mystery woman's consciousness, making his own eyes feel a bit heavy.

A spike of adrenaline shot through him unexpectedly, jolting him back to his senses. She was terrified, her heart thundering in her chest, breaths coming short and fast. Frank shot up, the little table in front of him skidding across the sidewalk. He wasn’t sure, but something told him he had to be where she was. To the other surprised patrons of the coffee shop, it seemed as though the dark stranger simply stood up and vanished into thin air, taking with him the aura of darkness that had been hanging over all of them, the very memory of his presence fading almost immediately.

Frank strode purposely through the park, headed for the southern Entrance. The closer he got, the more clearly he could hear a faint yet ominous chattering. His infernal nieces were huddled around the portal’s entrance, eyes wide with excitement. They all three whirled to face him, Atropos holding a glowing piece of thread in one hand, her cruelly sharp sewing shears in the other. The thread slowly unwound from around her sister Lachesis’s midsection. Clothos was off to the side, looking as though she were fighting sleep as usual. He groaned as he approached them. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Atropos sneered at him. “What do you think we’re doing?” She rolled her eyes, an affectation she’d picked up recently. It was just an added layer of torture that his brother had foisted these three girls on him, infinite power flowing through their veins, often as fickle as the teenage girls they were presented as. Deceitful illusions to hide their startlingly hideous forms from mortals. 

They were supposed to share the burden of their responsibilities equally, but Frank was aware that Atropos called the shots. He gave her an icy stare, his jaw clenching. “Not this one, Attie.”

She liked the pet name, smiling sweetly at him. Snicking her silver shears playfully in the air, she said, “You can’t tell me what to do. Only my dad can.”

He sighed, fighting the urge to throttle the deceptively innocent looking little creature. “I know that. I’m _asking_ you.”

Atropos smiled again, this time turning to Lachesis. “What do you think, Lacey?”

Lachesis shrugged, clearly uninterested and dreamy as always, picking through the tangled knots of thread twisted all around her body. “It’s up to you.”

Frank closed his eyes, listening for the whisper of souls in the city once again. Searching through the pulsing waves he found what he was looking for. “There’s a bar fight on Bleecker street that’s about to turn ugly… if you’re interested.”

“Fine.” Atropos dropped the shears back into her bag, flicking the glowing thread back at her sister. “This was boring anyway. Come on, let’s go.”

And with that she flounced away, a movement she’d no doubt recently acquired. He’d been dealing with the three sisters for eons, and he truly had no power over them, but he’d learned over the years that they had no firm attachment to anything, and distraction was the best method of getting what he wanted. He couldn’t believe that three such changeable beings had unfettered control over mortals’ fates.

The blonde woman was safe, for the moment. Even distracting the three fates wasn't always enough to ensure someone’s life. He had to work fast.

Frank felt her on the other side of the trees, adrenaline making her shake with the desire to run. He ducked through the shimmering air and came face to face with three black-souled men, the murderous grins on their faces immediately morphing into trembling fear. Frank felt the corner of his mouth twitch up. He was going to enjoy this this.

_Feel free to drop prompts in my comments or in my[Ask Box](http://thekastlediaries.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr_


	2. Chapter 2

When Karen was a little girl, ten years old, she got lost in the woods. A disastrous camping trip with her father that had culminated in raised voices and rage fueled tears. Perhaps 'lost' was the wrong word. She'd intentionally slipped into a dense stand of pines, hoping to never see her father again. But the air had quickly dropped below freezing, and in less than an hour she'd been wandering around by the light of the moon, teeth chattering in her skull, certain that she was going to die of hypothermia.

But then she'd seen it, the opening to a cave camouflaged by bent branches, three pairs of glowing eyes staring out at her. Fear should have been the natural response, but she'd only felt a powerful sense of longing. She'd known it was warm in that cave, furry bodies pressed up against each other, little muted sounds of pups happily grunting against their mother. The largest pair of eyes had beckoned her, a she-wolf tiling her head in a decidedly un-wolflike fashion. It had been all the encouragement Karen needed, slipping into the shelter and closing her eyes as the animals curled around her.

When she'd awoken the next morning, it had been to the sound of vicious growls, the mother wolf standing guard at the cave's entrance, Karen's father on the outside. The sharply glinting fangs of the animals were a comfort to her, all the rage coiled inside them felt like armor. Ultimately, she'd known she couldn't stay with the wolves, resting her hand gently on the she-wolf's raised hackles, smoothing down the fur as she murmured her thanks.

Her father had quietly thrummed with anger on the way home, refusing to speak to her for weeks after, and her classmates as school had rolled their eyes at her story, telling her that wolves were dangerous monsters, that they would have torn her to pieces if she'd actually stumbled upon them. Karen't hadn't cared, telling the tale over and over again, closing her eyes and imagining the soft feel of warm fur against her skin as she'd slept. Eventually she began to wonder if the whole thing had just been some wondrous dream.

* * *

_Run!_

Twisting away from the approaching villains, Karen sprinted deeper into the trees. This wasn't a part of the park she recognized, the canopy getting thicker and thicker as she ran along, sunlight struggling to make it to the forest floor. Behind her, she heard a sharp yell, followed by a strangled sound. Then came a bellowing like she'd never heard before, low and full of malice.

"STOP!"

Hiding behind a particularly large tree trunk, Karen peered through the foliage at her pursuers. There were just two of them now, one cohort lying lifeless behind them, his neck at an unfortunate angle. At the sound of the roaring voice they stopped in their tracks, an unseen force pushing them to their knees.

And then she saw him, the dark and enraged figure of her presumed savior. He towered over the two remaining men, inhumanly tall, eyes black and fathomless. He picked both men up by their necks.

Karen squeezed her eyes shut, knowing the next sounds she heard were two skulls cracking against an unyielding rock. Her heart thundered in her chest, and she tried to calm her frantic breathing, to listen for the voice of her mother to tell her what to do. The forest was eerily silent.

Her heart thundered in her throat, fear crashing into her in waves. She whispered frantically, begging her mother to tell her what to do, the words falling like a mantra from her lips over and over again. She felt a hand grip her shoulder, and she jumped, a little yelp escaping her.

The hand gave a squeeze, neither gentle nor rough. A strangely reassuring firmness. "Shh-shh.. You're safe."

His voice, it wasn't what she expected, gentleness riding just under the smoke roughened surface. No one would call the gravelly intonation soft, but it was soothing nonetheless. Slowly, she stood, watching him warily, the heat of his touch still seeping through her blouse to the skin of her shoulder. She was still afraid, but something about the careful way he was handling her set her at ease. She raised her gaze confidently, waiting for him to voice the questions written all over his face.

"What are you doing in the underworld?"

He was smaller now, more human shaped than before, his eyes a soft brown instead of an empty swirling blackness. She cleared her throat, searching for an answer to his insane question. "W-what?"

He frowned. "How did you get here?"

She swallowed, aware that fear should guide her questions carefully, but simultaneously unable to utter a reasonable explanation. She looked past him, toward the bodies of the men crumpled on the ground. "Are they dead?"

He looked back, clearly unconcerned. "They deserved worse. Answer my question."

She blinked, unable to decipher the curious expression in his face. He was obviously deranged. "I was in the park… sleeping. Then they came, and I ran here."

"That's not possible."

The flat denial was enough to push the last of Karen's fear aside, replacing it with a more comfortable indignation. "Oh really?" She couldn't help the anger tinging her words, hands resting defensively on her hips as she glared at him. "Why is that?"

"Because mortals can't come here unless I want them to. Let's go." With that statement, he was done interrogating her, his jaw clenching shut like a vice.

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't even know you. You just  _murdered_ three people."

"I don't have time for this." Unceremoniously, he put his hands around her waist, lifting her over his shoulder like a bag of laundry.

She landed on the solid muscle with a little "oomph." Her mind raced, trying to find a way out of the situation. "Ok man, look... Clearly you've got some kind of... delusions going on here. And that's... okay. I know people... that can help you. Doctors, and maybe even…lawyers?"

They were moving at an alarmingly fast clip, Karen's speech pattern interrupted by little gusts of air whooshing out of her with the more forceful bumps. She expected her words to give him pause. It was dangerous, calling out someone's delusion like this, but she didn't know what else to do.

But he didn't stop, in fact he even laughed at her offer for help, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Ma'am, I don't know what game you're playing, but you're not leaving until I find out who you really are."

Suddenly the trees were gone, the forest around them giving way to a rather barren landscape, all rocks and gnarled pieces of driftwood. It was night, an alien looking moon casting greenish glow over everything despite the fact that half an hour before she'd been basking in the afternoon sun.

They came to the edge of a river, black tar-like waves lapping at the bank. A shiver of real fear shot through her again, and she began squirming against him.

He shifted, swiftly sliding her down until her feet just touched the rocks at the riverside. Instinctively, she clung to him, afraid of losing her footing and tumbling into the deadly looking water. They were too close, noses barely a millimeter apart, eyes disconcertingly aligned. Something flashed across his face, and she felt his heart beat where her hand was braced. The gentle tapping briefly increasing its pace. A soft little "ah" escaped her, as though she'd discovered something about this man, her anger at being kidnapped temporarily subsiding.

The sound broke him out of the trance. He blinked, refocusing his attention and shoving her away. "Don't. Move."

And then his hands left her side. He turned away, not even bothering to restrain her. He was too busy fiddling with the fastenings of a boat docked in the choppy water to even glance back at her.

It was a chance to escape, and yet… she was cemented in place, the muscles in her calves struggling to yank her feet from where they were planted. The harder she tried, the more insistent the connection to the ground seemed to be. Hysteria bubbled up in her, a scream perched on her vocal chords, ready to take flight.

He turned back to her, a flash of sympathy zipping across his face. "This is just a precaution. I can't take chances anymore." He offered her his hand, palm up. The soft flesh there was scarred, a silvery line slashing straight across. Karen barely had time to contemplate the precise looking injury before he spoke again. "Come on."

The power holding her in place let go, and she stumbled forward, falling into his arms. He seemed surprised, curling around her briefly before helping her stand upright. "Be careful, Charon has the night off, and he'd give me an earful if I capsized his boat. Plus, falling into the river Styxx isn't a good idea."

He scooped her up, gently lifting her over the lip of the little boat. His words rang in her ears.  _Charon? Styxx?_ "Who  _are_  you?"

He jumped into the boat, grabbing an long pole to push off the bank. The ride was oddly smooth in spite of the seemingly turbulent activity in the water around them. He looked down at her as the riverbank disappeared. "Who am I? It's been a long time since anyone's asked me that." He looked thoughtful for a second, leaning against the pole in his hand. He smiled, for the first time. "You can call me Frank."

"Frank?"

He nodded. "And who are you?"

"K-Karen."

He squinted at her, as though she were behind a thick shroud. "Hmm, no that doesn't seem right. You're someone else."

"I beg your pardon?" She was aghast, indignation pushing past her nervousness. "What do I have to gain by lying? I'm your prisoner."

He grunted, looking out over the dark water. And sense of playfulness evaporating. "A temporary guest, not a prisoner." He flicked one hand toward the prow of the little boat, changing direction with the little gesture. He looked back at her. "You don't have tell me who you are, but I always figure these things out."


	3. Chapter 3

A very long time ago, Frank had been a man like any other. Eons before, he'd woken memoryless in a wheat field, head aching like it was clamped in a vice. The wind had made a whooshing sound as played through the stalks of wheat. It had been harvest time, the golden stalks ready for threshing any day.

A woman had found him, smiling down at his nakedness with humor dancing in her eyes. She'd led him by the hand to her village, children popping their heads curiously from doorways as they passed. She'd clothed him and fed him, hands gentle as she probed the bruises painting his body. And he'd fallen in love, quickly, plummeting like a man diving off a cliff into the ocean.

She hadn't cared that he was a man without name or past, that everything before that day in the field was murky and gray. All that had mattered to Maria was that he loved her, that he came home to her from the fields with a smile just for her. When they made love in the moonlight, Frank had known it was different. That no part of him had ever been subject to such vulnerability to tenderness, that her touch was completely foreign to him.

And when their daughter was born, it was like a piece of him that had been missing had finally been given back. She was tiny in his arms, soft and limpid brown eyes gazing up at him like he had all the answers in the world. And for little Elissavet he could pretend that he did.

Frank had known bliss, briefly, with his little family. He watched little Lisa take her first stuttering steps, heard her say her first single syllable words. He'd watched Maria glow with pleasure when talking about him and their daughter. Five years passed in a state of idyllic perfection. But one day the heavens had cracked open and everything had been taken from him in one fell swoop, the cackling laughter of a deity mad with power had echoed across the fields, lightning bolts falling and striking everyone in the little village dead. He'd crumpled into a heap, holding little Lisa to his chest, grief rending him from the inside out. The knowledge of his true identity fell on him like an avalanche..

He'd carried his two loves with him, passing into the underworld with a heavy heart. Sending them to their rightful place in the Fields of Elysium had been the hardest thing he'd ever done. Maria had looked at him one last time, a sad smile flashing across her mournful expression before she turned away from him. He didn't belong with them, and he hadn't belonged on earth either. He was not a human, never had been

* * *

Karen was an enigma to Frank. When he tried to look into her soul, to peak at the brightly fluttering hopes and dreams that all humans had, to suss out the dark secrets that were always inevitably there, there was a golden and impenetrable veil of light blocking him.

She wasn't like the truly evil people who had little or nothing left to see, like the men he'd dispatched tonight. And it wasn't as though she was being consciously deceptive. He wasn't entirely sure if she was even aware of this protective barrier she maintained. In fact, he could feel her soul pulsing with life… he just couldn't reach it.

It made him suspicious. The only other beings able to hide their true selves were the Gods. She wasn't any God that he knew of, and he was well acquainted with the pantheon. It didn't mean she couldn't be one of their children. Those assholes tended to treat mortals like their little playthings, scattering offspring all over the planet. And he would have even believed her ignorance about the matter, but it was strange for a halfling to inherit this particular godly gift. And when he'd asked her name, expectation had risen up within him, like he'd known what she was going to say. Her name had rang false. She wasn't  _Karen_ , at least not anymore than he was  _Frank._ They were human names, put on like cloaks.

He docked the boat on the shores of a comparatively beautiful section of the underworld. Dark swaying trees rose into the murky sky, sweeping up against the starless expanse. Glowing wisps darted back and forth like comets. Karen stared up at them open mouthed, eyes wide.

He looked up. It had been the first time in years he'd even noticed the majestic phenomenon. Feeling the tension in his shoulders ease up a little. He cleared his throat. "Souls."

She jerked her gaze away, wiping the awe away. "Souls?"

He nodded, feeling strangely talkative. "Lost souls, ones who haven't found an entrance to the underworld."

Karen frowned, glancing back up. "That's awful."

"It's not so bad. They get to stay on earth a little while longer."

She darted her eyes back to him, surprised by the wistful tone in his voice. He stared down at her, his dark eyes probing intently as he held a hand out to her. "Come on."

It was a command like before, but this time she didn't feel supernaturally compelled, pausing a moment before taking hold of him and letting him lead her to his home.

Frank had a palace in the underworld, a dimly lit yet lushly appointed dwelling to while away the hours in this dismal existence. He hated it. The echoing silence was a direct contrast to the mirth-filled abode he'd once had on earth. It was supposed to be a consolation for the bleak existence he was forced to live, an empty apology. The countless chambers were a cruel joke, since no one could ever truly spend any leisure time here.

It's where he took her, showing her to a beautifully decorated chamber, waving a hand to set the room alight. "Stay here." He could have used his power to enforce this command, but bending Karen's will had felt like a violation the few times he'd done it. He was loathe to do it again. "I'll be back in a minute, and then you can get around to telling me what you're doing here."

His own chambers were small in comparison, a square little room with a giant bed taking up nearly all the space, a closet full of oft-worn man-made clothing to its left. Spending time on earth was the only pleasurable pastime he had, even if he was bound by an oath to punish the more unsavory humans he encountered there.

He took off his hunting clothes, tossing aside the long black coat, carefully hidden and mostly unnecessary weapons making it land heavily on the bed. He undressed, watching his bloodstained threads fall to the floor. The clothes he'd worn tonight were filthy. He could snap his fingers and be dressed in the finest clothes humanly available if he wanted. Instead he grabbed a gray cotton t-shirt from the back of his closet. It still smelled like fresh air and sunlight.

He froze, the image of Karen dozing in a puddle of sunshine sneaking up on him. He suddenly had the urge to reach out and touch her, feel the strands of her golden hair slip through his fingers. His hand was already out in front of him, involuntarily reaching. He folded his fingers into a fist, jerking it back down to his side. Nothing good ever came from human attachment. He had centuries of pain as ample evidence. The three scumbags who'd watched her from a distance, all sorts of vile things in store for her, were not the last of their had been so easy to suss out the mercenary evil they carried in their hearts. Someone had paid them to take her out, and they probably wouldn't be the last ones.

He shook off the anger bubbling in him, pulling on his clean clothes. The urge to protect her was entirely too strong, and even with the barrier keeping him from reading her soul, he could sense an inner strength beneath the pretty exterior. No one sent  _three_ hitmen to kill a poor defenseless woman… and yet Frank couldn't deny how badly he wanted to hunt down the source of this danger and pulverize it to dust.

He walked unannounced into her chamber, quietly gliding over the marble floors. She was staring out the window across the barren plain, a little wrinkle of concern between her eyes. "Is it always dark here in the, uh, underworld?"

"in this part it is. The Fields of Elysium are lighter. Many souls go there. Honorable ones, innocent ones… children." His jaw clenched after the last word, a sliver of despair slipping through his stoic facade. Hurriedly, he reassumed his stony demeanor, disliking the sympathy flashing across Karen's face . "Tell me who you are."

The abrupt subject change threw Karen for a loop. "I'm Karen Page." She answered without thinking. "I'm a lowly secretary who keeps her head down and avoids all the crazy shit going on in the world. Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

"Because it's bullshit, even if you don't know it. Three men were hired to kill you, there has to be a reason, and you slipped right into the underworld without an invitation. That's another red flag right there." He shook his head in frustration. "Tell me who your parents are."

She gazed at him in exasperation, stomping over to stand directly in front of him. "My father is Dr. Paxton Page, and my mother left shortly after I was born. Her name was Demeter and-"

Frank waved a hand at her. "Stop." It made sense now. The Goddesses were always so much more discrete about their dalliances on earth. Of course Karen was her daughter, the golden power of nature radiated off her in waves. He stepped back from her, looking up at the ceiling. "DEMETER!" His voice a hundred times louder than humanly possible, the walls shaking. Karen could see the sound waves shimmering in the air.

Everything stopped as quickly as it began, a familiar voice coming from the hallway. "Hades, dear, please calm down."

Frank whirled around to face the woman who had appeared out of thin air. She was dressed in a long green shift, her ethereal beauty nearly blinding Karen. He reached out and yanked her into the room, looking in astonishment between the two women. "How the hell didn't I see the resemblance?"

Demeter gave him a long suffering look. "Unhand me, and let me go to my daughter."

Begrudgingly, Frank obeyed her command. It never did any good to ruffle the gods' feathers. He watched as Karen stared up at her mother, eyes awash with tears, naked awe trembling through her. He immediately felt bad for having assumed she was a part of whatever deception was occurring.

When Demeter embraced her, a little sob escaped Karen, and Frank felt something tug at him. He pushed it away. "What the hell is going on?"

The two broke apart, Demeter sighing as she brushed the tears off Karen's cheeks. "Hades-"

He cut her off. "Don't call me that."

"Fine,  _Frank_. She's in danger. Her father's a vile man with powerful enemies, and I'm bound by a stupid promise made on the shores of that infernal river of yours to never interfere with mortals again. I need your help."

"No."

"Hear me out."

"No."

Demeter stomped her foot. "You stubborn idiot,  _listen to me._ " There it was again, that impossibly loud God-voice Frank had used before. It was just as frightening coming from a beautiful goddess. " _You do not have a choice in the matter._ "

" _Like hell I don't_ ," Frank bellowed back.

Demeter turned to the little table beside the window, pointing to a bowl of pomegranate seeds. "She's eaten the food of the underworld, she's inextricably tied to you now and you have no choice but to protect her. There are rules  _Frank,_ and as much as you hate them, you have to abide by them."

He snatched the bowl up off the table, turning to Karen. "Where did you get this?"

Finding her voice again, she straightened her shoulders. "One of your servants brought it to me, and I was hungry."

He whirled back to Demeter. "You sneaky, manipulating, old-"

"Watch yourself, Frank. I fully expect you to honor the oaths you've taken. She only ate half, so maybe there's some wiggle room, but if I'm not on your side, you won't even get the opportunity to ask."

And with that, she was gone in a flash of light, leaving Karen and Frank alone in the echoing quiet. He wouldn't look at her, staring down at the ruby colored seeds, grinding his teeth. The last thing he wanted, for Karen, or any other innocent soul, was for her to be stuck here in this place.

Karen felt sympathy surge through her, watching the barely hidden disappointment and anger flicker in and out of his countenance. The conflict roiling around inside of him palpable, she couldn't help it when her feet closed the distance between them. A consolatory hand on his arm, she said, "It's just a few seeds."

"If you eat in the underworld, you're stuck here, Karen. You can only leave if I'm by your side, and when I return so do you."

She backed away, biting her bottom lip in thought. Frank watched her. The way she furrowed her brow, the gears so obviously turning in her mind, it intrigued him. All the more because he couldn't just look in and see what she was thinking. He waited for her to speak, the silence around them comfortable for once, rather than ominous.

Finally she did speak, squaring her shoulders. "There has to be something we can do. I'm not saying down here."

Frank gritted his teeth, turning to toss the offending seeds into the fireplace. Bright blue flames spurted up and engulfed them, sweet smoke wafting into the room. He knew what he had to do, and it irked the hell out of him. He stomped out of the room, calling out behind him, "Come on, we're going to Tartarus, to talk to those pricks who tried to kill you."

**A/n: i would like to note that obviously some liberties will be taken in regards to actual Greek mythology, but I feel like they're forgivable considering that this is a Daredevil AU :P I really appreciate any and all feedback anyone has to give, it really helps.**


	4. Chapter 4

Karen walked behind Frank in a daze, sure that at any moment she was going to wake up in the park, hair full of leaves, mouth gritty with sleep. She had to be dreaming. Was she really chilling with the God of the Underworld? And her mother? Her mother was some lesser Goddess of… nature? It made more sense than Karen cared to admit, so she pushed it away, trying to convince herself she was in slumberland.

They walked along a rocky path, dark trees swaying mysteriously without wind. A faint glow on the horizon providing the strange half-light that passed for day in the underworld. Her eyes were drawn back to her companion, flickering along the line of his shoulders, down the ridge of his spine to his lower back. The thin cotton shirt he wore left little to the imagination, clinging to his rigid musculature. Even in her dreams she'd never invented someone so well made. A little shiver of appreciation zipped through her, eyes wandering further south.

So, Hades wore designer jeans that hugged his ass as he floated gracefully along. Karen felt a hysterical giggle bubble up through her. She bit down on her bottom lip to stifle it, knowing if she gave in there would be a flood of panicked tears not too far behind. She was losing her mind.

Frank heard the strangled sound and glanced back over his shoulder at her, brow furrowing when he saw how far she'd lagged behind. He stopped, ready to grumble about her slow pace, but the sight of her caught the words in throat. Her eyes, somehow bluer than before, stared at him in wide-eyed astonishment.

She threw an arm out, pointing at his feet, accusatory finger shaking. "Are you f-floating?"

His eyebrows shot up, surprise painting his features. "Shit.. Sorry." He dropped to the ground, fine dust settling across the tops of his boots. It was second nature for him when he was in the underworld, zipping from place to place. He didn't exactly feel like casually strolling through this hellish landscape, stopping to smell the aroma of faint despair wasn't a priority.

She threw her head back and let loose with a gale of laughter, tears streaming down the sides of her face, dampening the hair at her temples. Frank froze, the waves of unexpected hysteria coming from her knocked the breath out of him. He scrambled to throw up his shields. He was used to feeling the constant hum of ups and downs when on earth, but it wasn't a power he thought much about. Humans didn't normally have this much oomph behind their emotions.

He blinked, barricades back up, and focused his attention back on her. The laughter had faded, and she'd drawn her hands up to her face, mumbling something into her wet palms. Frank took a step toward her, nearly tripping as a vine snaked out into the path, wrapping around his ankle.

He kicked it away, turning back to her. The trees along the side of the path were slowly but surely bending down toward her, branches tentatively creeping down until one brushed the top of her blonde head, suddenly imbued with an eerily anthropomorphic tenderness.

He reached for her, intending to take her gently by the shoulder, shake her out of this little breakdown she was having, but a branch swatted him out of the way. He hissed. "Son of a bitch!"

For a split second rage boiled through him. This was his domain, for better or worse, and he expected to be treated with a modicum of respect, even by suddenly sentient plant life. He dipped down into his reserve of magic, ignoring the revulsion he felt as the power surged in him, and threw a hand up to freeze everything around them.

Karen's eyes flew open. The tendrils of comfort she'd unconsciously been pulling to her were suddenly snapped and Frank was standing over her with an expression of mixed irritation and awe. She wiped the tears away from her face, self-consciously patting her hair back into place. She sniffed. "I'm sorry… it just hit me all at once… This can't be real. Pinch me or something. This has to be fucking dream."

He softened, reaching forward to pull her further along. The bones of her wrist were delicate, easily encircled by his long fingers, the heat of her skin licking at him like flames. He swallowed, focusing on the path ahead of them. "Unfortunately you're wide awake, and so am I."

He didn't like using his powers for anything other than the grim task of punishing scumbags on earth. They served as a constant reminder of everything he'd lost, and for what. But the thought of making Karen trudge across the fields of punishment to the entrance of Tartarus for this reason made him feel like a selfish asshole.

He sighed, drawing her closer to him. Karen squeaked in surprise, blushing at the feel of his hands on her waist. "What are you doing?"

The pink heat in her cheeks sent a corresponding dart of warmth through him. He tried and failed to maintain his coolly detached air, involuntarily smirking at her before saying, "Slow dancing, ma'am. Now hold on tight so you don't fall down."

He wrapped his arms around her, not fully trusting her to obey him, and let his powers take over. They surged through him, making old wounds ache. Karen heard a tornado-like rush of wind, her hair flying out in all directions, and suddenly they were weightless, zipping up over the tops of the trees in a burst of speed.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as they traversed what might have been several hundred miles on earth. It was all strangely warped down here though, the dark forest disappearing behind them in a matter of seconds.

As they neared the source of the illumination on the horizon the glowing beams seemed to penetrate Karen's skin, pleasant warmth sizzling down into her bones. She had a fierce longing, heart in her throat as she looked out across an expanse of rippling water, eyes lighting on a cluster of brightly glowing islands. "What is that?"

She whispered the question, fairly sure that Frank wouldn't be able to hear her over the rushing wind. But he felt it too, the painful tug of a paradise he could never know, magnified tenfold by the woman ensconced in his arms. Her need was damn near palpable. Most souls that got this close lost all sense of reality, falling into a pit of hopeless despair when they realized they didn't belong on the islands. He doubled his speed, rocketing west as quickly as he could. Finally he answered her. "The Isles of the Blessed."

He could explain further, but really what was the point? The name was pretty self explanatory and the likelihood that Karen or any other mortal would make it to such a place was astronomical. He hoped she'd absorbed as much of the warmth and light as possible. She was going to need it where they were headed.

* * *

It got dark, quickly, and cold too. The black night turning inky and wrapping thickly around the two of them. Neither could see a thing, and Frank navigated by instinct, landing adroitly on an outcropping of jagged rock just at the mouth of what looked like cave.

Karen tried to catch her breath, hands shaking noticeably as she let go of Frank. She pulled away, noting the cold air and how it contrasted greatly with the warmth of Frank's arms around her. She looked toward the mouth of the cave, squinting in the dimness. An icy gust of air blew from its depths accompanied by a foul stench.

Karen wrinkled her nose, instinctively backing away. Immediately, she felt his grip on her arm, pulling her from the cliff's edge. "Watch it."

Grateful that he couldn't see the flush of embarrassment flooding her face, Karen stepped a little closer to him. "Sorry." She felt his grip loosen, and a little thrill of fear shot through her. The feeling of being untethered completely was unsettling.

This place was so desolate. Never in her life had the pulse of nature been so utterly absent, the golden threads connecting her to the world around her all too far away to reach. There had been lonely times in her life, hours spent in her own company, but rarely had she ever felt alone. Instinctively she reached for his hand before he could release her, threading his fingers through hers. The warmth was comforting and she was glad it was too dark to see the undoubtedly annoyed expression on his face. "Do we have to go in there?"

Frank let out a long breath, trying to ignore the distracting way she unconsciously ran her thumb over the back of his scarred knuckles. "No." Turning, he bellowed into the stinking maw. "KRONOS!"

A large man appeared seemingly from nowhere, holding a lantern in one hand and a scythe in the other, voluminous black robes swirling around him. He towered over the two of them, the glow from his light faintly green. It cast flickering shadows over his sad looking face. Karen craned her neck to look up at him, taking in a set of inhumanly broad shoulders and a girth to match. The giant gave Frank a small smile, as if the act was beneath him. "Welcome, friend."

Frank scoffed, unable to hide the disgust in his voice. "Drop the dramatic act, asshole."

Kronos flicked his wrist and the scythe disappeared in a wisp of smoke, the lantern in his opposite hand morphing into the familiar shape of a streetlamp, its greenish hue becoming a soft yellow. The robes had shifted into a tailored suit, a pair of winking cufflinks catching Karen's eye. He wasn't any less intimidating in his new attire.

"You bring me another corrupt soul to torture for the rest of eternity?" Kronos said, turning his cool gaze on Karen. "Hmm, this one definitely has a few dark secrets swimming around in her beautiful head."

Karen shivered, suddenly feeling as though someone were trying to pry her open. She resisted it, feeling anger pool inside of her. There were dark things inside of her, buried deep down long ago, things that she never intended to dig up. She was squeezing Frank's hand in a death grip, her knuckles white as chalk. A lesser man probably would have yelped in pain.

"That's enough, Wilson." Frank said it quietly, briefly glancing at Karen from the corner of his eye.

"No one says my name!" The big man's nostrils flared, the volume of his voice the only betrayal of anger in his otherwise calm demeanor.

The prying sensation immediately stopped, leaving Karen feeling weak. Sheepishly, she untensed her fingers and let go of Frank's abused hand.

"Kronos… Wilson… who gives a shit? Don't matter what your name is, you're still locked in this underground cesspit." Frank shifted. "I need to talk to the three shitbags I dropped in on you earlier."

Suddenly disinterested, Kronos waved his hand. Three men appeared at his feet, crumpled and broken, moaning in pain. Karen gasped, hand flying to her mouth. The men's limbs were all at unnatural angles, jagged bones poking through bruised skin, faces swollen and unrecognizable. It made her sick to her stomach.

Frank didn't flinch, growling at Kronos. "Don't be a dick."

Sighing, Kronos waved his hand again, this time healing the wretches and disappearing altogether. Karen moved closer to Frank, facing down the men who'd been intent on killing her. They snarled in her direction, eyeing Frank warily. "What do you want?"

"Who sent you to kill her?"

The apparent leader of the trio stepped forward, displaying a kind of bravery flaunted only by those who were utterly stupid. "Why should we tell you anything? What's in it for us?"

"Who… sent… you?" If anything, the question was quieter, a deadly yet controlled anger behind it.

Frank usually didn't bother with this type of interrogation. On earth all he had to do was look into their souls and he knew the whole truth, but when he looked inside of these three men, their souls were in pieces, torn apart by something or someone that didn't want him to know the truth. He snarled, "I don't negotiate with murderers."

One of the smaller men pushed past the apparent leader, throwing himself at Frank's feet, snot and tears streaming down his face. "Please, please, don't send me back." He was sniveling, clinging the the bottom of Frank's pant leg.

Karen watched in horror as the man continued to sob, shaking violently as he begged for mercy. Frank kicked him away. He didn't have an ounce of sympathy for the prick. "Stand up."

The command didn't work. If anything, the tearing sobs got louder and the man collapsed on the ground in a hopeless heap. Karen felt pulled apart. This man had been intent on killing her, on ravaging her body and sparing her no indignity, and yet… His suffering was apparent, the things he'd endured already in his short time in the underworld were unimaginable. Her softer side won out. "F-frank…" She cleared her throat, trying again, this time with more confidence. "Frank, uh, I'm not saying you should let him go, but... "

"But what?" he asked sharply.

Undaunted, she continued. "These things… they're tit for tat, right? Why should he answer you if you're just going to throw him back in that torture chamber?"

The man had gone quiet, rocking silently curled up in a ball. The other two men looked on in disgust, the leader stepping forward with renewed confidence, a little swagger in his posture. "Yeah, listen to the spoiled little bitch. We ain't giving you something for nothing."

Karen felt Frank tense beside her. Before she could say anything, the two men were up in the air. Some unseen force flung them back into the entrance of Tartarus, their screams echoing off the cold cave walls. The third man lay whimpering on the ground. Frank reissued his command. "Stand up."

This time he obeyed, afraid to raise his eyes to the God of the Underworld.

"Tell me who sent you and…" He looked at Karen, begrudgingly acknowledging her logic. "... and I won't send you back to Tartarus. You'll go to the fields of punishment like the more run-of-the-mill pieces of shit."

"The f-fields of p-punishment?"

Frank sighed. "Why don't they teach the classics in schools anymore?" He shook his head. "It's like… the fifth circle of hell, okay? Not the best but definitely not the worst."

Trembling in relief, the man started babbling. "We got a call from a guy… He arranges these things. He's a middle man. He keeps his client's identities secret. Calls from a burner, leaves the money at a drop bar, different one each time."

"Which one was it this time?"

"Some hole in the wall called  _Josie's_  in Hell's Kitchen."

Frank reached forward and picked the man up by his neck. He could feel when people were lying to him, the deception was in the way they breathed, the beating of their shriveled little hearts. Everything the man said was true. "This information wasn't worth a get out of jail free card. It's your lucky fucking day. Thank the nice lady."

The dangling man let out a choked thank-you, eliciting a satisfied grunt from Frank who let him go. The man disappeared before he hit the ground, leaving Frank and Karen alone on top of the cliff.

"Looks like we're headed back up top. Feel like slow dancing again?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the lovely feedback I've been getting. Sometimes it's really hard for me to garner the motivation to update things and it always helps to know what people are actually reading what I write. Comments make me so happy and I'm a predictably needy creature. :P


	5. Chapter 5

On its best days, _Josie’s_ was a bit of a dive. The stained glass front window coated with a layer of nicotine, neon light by the front door flickering in its old age. Matt loved the every inch of the dusty bar, loved the mugs-of-dubious-cleanliness brimming over with frothy beer, loved  the juke box that only played three songs, loved sitting in the corner and observing the thrumming humanity all around him. **  
**

He was a regular here, with his own table, and his own ‘usual’ order waiting for him before he even sat down. The bartender was head over heels for him, when she could remember his existence. That was a bit of a problem. The love thing. The memory thing.

Everyone he met was instantly charmed by him, by his crooked smile and the way he encircled their wrists with his graceful fingers as he shook their hands. They were charmed by his self-effacing yet sharp wit, the little jokes he made about his blindness set them at ease. He didn’t dwell on it, and neither should they. His sight taken from him by his father in lieu of other abilities. It wasn’t much of a price to pay, not to him. The sounds and smells of New York were plentiful, and they filled the spaces of his mind with varying hues just as he imagined light would, bouncing gently off beautiful symmetrical and interestingly twisted faces alike.  

Women fell in love with him at the drop of a hat. He could hear it in their shortness of breath, in the way their hearts raced when he touched them, the way their skin flushed with a heat that was borderline feverish. They ached for him. He could sense that too, a divinely sinful scent on the air when they hit on him. It was easy. He was the God of love after all.

But he always grew bored with his conquests, and they quickly forgot him mere moments after he passed from their presence. A blessing really, since he didn’t think he’d ever really reciprocated the passion that was directed at him, even though he yearned for it.

The desire filled every space inside of him, the magic of love swirling around in his veins, pouring from his fingertips at the slightest provocation. He lived vicariously through other people, watching them burst at the seams with affection for one another, a warmth radiating from them that had nothing to do with the temperature of the air. That’s why he loved _Josie’s_.

Nearly every soul that passed through the dirty glass doors of the bar was heartbroken, whether it was because of some failed relationship or because whatever dreams they’d had for their lives hadn’t panned out. It didn’t really matter. Matt could suss out the hopelessness and the desperation. He knew when two souls would fit right together, their jagged edges clicking together like puzzle pieces.

It was his gift to humanity, the little darts of magic that shot from his fingertips like arrows, flying unerringly to their targets. The fog of sadness dissipating in the smoky blue haze of the bar.

Tonight there was something heavy hanging in the air, a menacing electrical charge that set the hairs on his arm standing on end. The patrons around him could feel it too, conversations strangely subdued, people mostly keeping to themselves as they nursed their drinks. Matt braced for something ominous.

Just the feeling was at its most intense, the doors swung open, causing more than a few people to snap their heads up. Matt tensed, immediately recognizing the tall glowering man, the source of the foreboding sensations. He waved one hand toward the bartender, calling out an order. “Lou, could I get a refill on this ale, and I’m sure my friend would like a double shot of your finest whiskey.”

Reluctantly, the man at the door turned toward Matt, the expression his face just short of disgust. He grunted Matt’s secret name, nodding to acknowledge the invitation. 

The bartender glanced at them warily, and Matt turned back toward the door, the wry smile on his lips freezing as he sensed the person behind the god of the underworld. She was everything Frank wasn’t. Warm and inviting, life skittering along the surface of her skin, heart fluttering nervously in the wake of her nonplussed companion. Matt focused his attention on her, feeling almost helpless against the tug of her lifeforce. “And what would the lady like?”

Frank pulled up two chairs, waiting until the woman had taken a seat before sitting across from Matt.

Matt was fascinated by the reverential treatment Frank bestowed on his ethereal companion, by the protective way the bigger man placed himself between her and the door. He wouldn’t comment on it, of course. He didn’t want a black eye. Women always had pitying questions when he sported shiners. It put a damper on his social life. He turned to her, asking again, “A drink?”

“Make that another whiskey.”

She smiled, he could hear it in her voice, feel it in the way she sat at an angle from him, leaning almost in his direction, golden tendrils of warmth tentatively putting out feelers. His eyebrows shot up. So, she wasn’t just some human subject of Hades. She was something else entirely. He smiled back, unable to help the way his magic began to swirl inside of him. 

Matt ignored the obvious death glare Frank was casting in his direction, focusing entirely on the woman. He put out his hand. “Since our friend here is about as socially adept as a grizzly bear, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Matt.”

She reached for his hand, the heat of a blush suffusing her skin. “Karen.”

He drew circles on the back of her hand, letting her name roll around a bit in his head. “Karen, that fits you. Although…” He trailed off, something pulling at the edges of his consciounsness. “It’s not quite the whole story is it?”

* * *

Frank glared at Eros. The God of love. What a bunch of bullshit. The lesser god dealt in shallow infatuation, leaving a string of disastrous pairings in his wake. Frank watched as Matt charmed Karen, her body language receptive but nervous. His fingers twitched, itching to curl into a fist and meet up with the other man’s face a couple dozen times.

Frank felt… something. It wasn’t a feeling he’d been afflicted with in a very long time. He felt protective over Karen, sure, but this was something else. A little hot spike of possessiveness hitting him in the gut. He tried to bat away the thought as soon as it entered his mind. He reminded himself that she was nothing but a nuisance to him, an interruption in the miserable life he’d only recently begun accept.

The waitress arrived with their drinks. Frank snatching his doubleshot off the tray before she could even set it down. He downed the burning liquid. “That’s enough, Murdock. Maybe you can keep it in your pants long enough to actually be useful.”

Karen laughed at the put-upon expression on Matt’s face, an honest bubble of amusement breaking the surface of her previously wary countenance. It surprised Frank. He had expected irritation or even anger at him interrupting her tête-à-tête with the suave god of love.  But she turned to smile at him, right before downing her own shot of whiskey. 

Matt leaned back in his chair, an air of defeat surrounding him as he turned his attention back to Frank. “Since you asked so nicely, of course.”

“You here most nights?”

Matt nodded.

“You ever notice any… unsavory types making regular stops, picking up packages…”

Matt took a long pull from his mug of ale, savoring the dark flavor as he pondered Frank’s question. “What kind of packages?”

“Cash. This shithole’s a drop bar.”

Matt scanned his memory. There had been a gray little man, devoid of any defining features, stopped by at the same time every Tuesday night, always walked right behind the bar and ducked down under the taps to grab something. Matt had noted how strange it was for someone to walk into a bar and not say a word to anyone. He told Frank about the little man.

“That’s all you got? Some short, silent, creep? That’s not really all that helpful.”

Matt smirked at him, tapping the dark lenses of his round glasses. “I can’t exactly tell you what color his hair was. He was short, heavy…” He shifted his index finger to the side of his nose. “... went a little light on the deodorant, possibly smoked clove cigarettes.”  Matt drained the last of his drink. “And like I said, every Tuesday, clockwork.”

Frank drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s Monday.”

Matt turned to look at Karen. “He’s always like this.”

Her eyes widened. It was strange, but while the two men had been talking her thoughts had been wandering. Little pulses of energy making the hairs on her arms stand up, Frank’s voice echoing pleasantly in her ears without conveying any real information. It was like she was intoxicated, but she’d only had one drink. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense. “I’m sorry, what?”

Frank’s eyes narrowed, focusing in on Matt. “Cut the shit, Murdock.”

Suddenly Karen was clear headed once more. The bar looked dingier. Had everything been just a little bit rosy earlier? She blinked furiously. What the hell was going on? “Um, I think… I need to use the ladies room. I’ll be right back.”

Frank watched her go, waiting until she disappeared behind a dark swinging door to snarl at Matt, “Don’t lay that bullshit on her.”

Matt shrugged. “It’s not what you think. I wasn’t trying to deceive her… I was just curious.  It’s not every day that Hades walks into a dive bar with…” Matt paused, trying to figure out just exactly what was so different about Karen. “... someone like that.” He frowned. “I couldn’t really see anything. It’s unusual.” 

Matt looked somewhat unsettled. He could see the jagged edges of Frank’s soul as clear as day in his mind’s eye. They were sharp and cold. Frank wore the damage like a badge of honor, refusing to hide it. Matt shivered. It was curiosity that had propelled him. He wanted to see Karen’s soul, to know… How on earth could this woman be mixed up with Hades?  He redoubled his apology. “Sorry, man, force of habit. And yes, it’s Monday, which means if you come back tomorrow, you’ll have your nondescript smelly friend.”

Frank nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. This hopping between dimensions, dragging a companion along with him, had sapped his energy. It was just as well. “We’ll be back tomorrow.”

* * *

Karen looked at herself in the mirror, cheeks rosy, eyes glassy. God she looked like she was three sheets to the wind, and... happy? It was so strange. There was something about Frank’s friend, something intoxicating and more than a little unsettling. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.

Splashing water on her face, she told herself that she needed to pull it together.

Frank was waiting for her just outside the bathroom, the man with the round glasses nowhere in sight. He helped her into a jacket, one that she didn’t remember taking off, and they left the bar.

Walking the streets of New York like this, close but not quite touching, the brisk air whipping around them, everything felt clean and real. For the first time since her little nap in the park she was beginning to feel normal again, and with that came a bit of a complication. She finally had to admit that she wasn’t dreaming, that somehow this was really her life.

She shivered, and Frank wordlessly came up beside her, hand resting at the small of her back. “Cold? We’re almost there, just a few more blocks.”

She hadn’t even asked where they were going, giving into the absurdity before her. He probably had some god-penthouse in the west-village with minion doormen and harpies guarding the towers. She smiled to herself.

She was mildly surprised when he stopped in front of what looked like a warehouse, bending down low scoop a key out of an empty flower pot. He tugged at the bottom of what looked like a very large garage door, grunting in satisfaction when the mechanism caught. She watched the thing silently slide out of sight, revealing spacious living quarters. It may not have been a penthouse on the Upper West Side, but it was none too shabby. 

He shrugged his coat off, hanging it gently on a nearby hook before turning to shut the door. “We’ll spend the night here. I’ve got some leads I want to run down tomorrow, then we’ll go stake out _Josie’s._ ”

She was already walking toward the bed tucked into the back corner of the studio, exhaustion pulling at her limbs. “Sounds like a plan…”  They were calling to her, the down comforter and fluffy pillows. She’d never seen anything so inviting. 

In seconds she was lying flat on the surface, snoring gently with her head shoved into a couple pillows.

Frank cursed. Murdock must have really laid the magic on thick, bathing her in it as he searched for answers. She must have been unconsciously using her own magic to shield herself, holding it up the entire time she was talking to the little prick. It looked like Frank wasn’t the only one completely sapped. With a groan, he sank down into the chair at the foot of the bed, barely getting his boots off before sleep overcame him.


	6. Chapter 6

Karen stretched, eyes still closed, relishing in the warmth of sunlight falling on her face. She felt well rested. The tart smell of grass filling her nose, a breeze catching her hair and blowing it across her face. 

Her eyes flew open. 

She lay curled in a comfortable patch of green beside a dusty dirt road. Tall shafts of wheat swaying back and forth in the field behind her made swishing noises, the only sound cutting through the air. 

Dusting herself off, she got up, looking at her surroundings curiously. The sky was bright, big billowy white clouds piling up on top of each other like swirls of cotton candy, a deep purple expanse off in the distance ominously rumbling now and then. The motion of the air increased, whipping her hair back and forth. 

Feet bare, blouse untucked from her skirt, hair sleep-tangled and falling over her shoulders, she was dressed exactly the way she had been when she’d fallen asleep, but she had no idea how she came to be on the side of a mysterious road. She waited for hysteria to settle over her, but with all the crazy things that had happened in the past week, she could barely process the insanity. In the absence of fear came a strange calm. 

She turned. There were only two options really, go left and follow the road toward the rumbling storm, perhaps get soaked along the way, or go right and follow the path between the fields indefinitely into the sunshine. It was tempting, but there was something about the softly falling sunshine that didn’t look right, a hazy quality to the air. 

Taking a couple steps to investigate, she came up short, a buzzing sensation filling her limbs and pushing her back in the direction of the storm. Throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation, she muttered, “Fine, I’ll go left.” 

She didn’t know who she was talking to, only that none of this could possibly be real, and someone had to be behind it all. She spun on her heel, marching in the direction of the developing storm. 

She’d been walking for half an hour when the sky grew dark over her head and the first fat drops of rain began to splash on the ground. Little puffs of dust billowed up where they crashed into the dirt road, but it quickly turned into a squishy muddy mess, coating the soles of her feet. She pushed her wet hair out of her face. The water was warm, coming down in whipping sheets until she could barely see ten feet up the road. 

Lightening lit up the sky, bright white and electric hot, a deafening crash of thunder coming milliseconds after. Her heart jumped in her throat and she started running, the blurry dark shape of what looked like a small mud-brick home. She dashed toward it. 

Sliding through the mud she skidded to a stop at the little building’s entrance, pushing against the heavy wooden door until it swung open. What should have been a dank and musty hut turned out to be a softly glowing and warm home, twin oil lamps flickering on either side of the little dwelling, shutters battened against the storm. 

There was a table in the center of the room, set for a meal with no diners, ornately decorated glazed clay dishes on all four sides. In spite of the flames flickering in their lamps, the entire place had an abandoned feel to it. The thinnest layer of dust imaginable collected on all the surfaces, a shrunken apple sitting in a bowl in the middle of the table. There was a single painting hung on the back wall, a bright and extremely simplistic rendering of a little girl, her hair a sunny yellow, twirling as she danced along the road beside a field. Karen wanted to explore, to run her fingers along the edges of the beautiful pottery, to step into the dwelling and inhale the softly sweet aroma of the burning oil and unnamed spices floating in the air, to take a closer look at the painting. But she didn’t dare step across the threshold with her muddy feet. 

She felt the tingling again, this time pushing her from behind until she stumbled into the home, belatedly realizing the floor itself was packed dirt. She felt silly, dusting her knees off. She gave in to her natural urge to snoop, ever so carefully picking up different objects and inspecting them. Everything seemed to be handmade. She picked up a little wooden horse with wheels for feet, lovingly crafted from soft wood by patient hands. It was warm in her hands, but it made her unspeakably sad, the urge to break down and cry crashing over her unexpectedly. 

“How the hell are you here?” Frank stood in the doorway, glaring across the small dwelling. 

“Huh?” The toy tumbled from Karen’s hands, the foreign feelings of grief disappearing as soon as the thing hit the floor. The sound of it cracking against the stone hearth drew Frank’s angry gaze. 

“How did you get here?” he repeated, coming to stand before her. 

His toe nudged the broken toy, and for the first time Karen took in his rather strange appearance. Sandals… the god of the underworld was wearing leather strapped sandals, muscular legs bare up to the hem of a short tunic, gold designs looping around the edge of the simple linen garment. She felt incredibly out of place in her pencil skirt and silk blouse. She tore her eyes away from him, looking up guiltily. “How, uh, _did_ I get here?” 

He frowned. “It’s a dream.” 

“I’m dreaming?” 

Shaking his head, Frank took her by the hand and led her out of the small structure. The storm had advanced, bruised sky darkening even more. The wind whipped at the both of them as they proceeded down the trail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how short this update is! I'm just glad I was able to take a crack at this story again, I'm already thinking of the next chapter. Thanks for reading, any feedback at all would be appreciated so much :D


	7. Chapter 7

“Quick, they have to be closer or the connection will sever.” 

Morpheus glared at his companion, panting in his efforts. “I don’t see you helping.” 

“I’m not allowed to meddle. So unless you want a couple of sizzling thunderbolts to tear this place apart, I suggest you start lifting with your knees.” 

“Give me a second.” 

He let Frank slump back down in his chair, taking a minute to survey their surroundings and catch his breath. Frank’s secret abode on earth was impressive, spacious and filled with the latest in technology and interior design. His own little apartment in the city was a closet by comparison, but he never never spent much time there anyway. He turned back to the task at hand, this time moving to grab Frank under the arms. He made a mental note to find out what kind of leather the thing was made out of since it was clearly comfortable enough to sleep in. 

He rolled Frank onto the soft bed, grunting with the effort. The sleeping man was not light, and even with supernatural strength it was an onerous task. Morpheus looked down at at the sleeping couple, a sense of dread bubbling up in his stomach. Reaching into his pocket he fished out a roll of tums, chomping down on two chalky tablets before he turned back to his ethereal companion. “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Demeter. Remember the whole no meddling thing? This seems -- ” 

He stopped short. The goddess flashed her eyes at him, sending yet another wave of nausea roiling in the pit of his stomach. He hated his earthbound form. Soft and susceptible to anxiety, he was pretty sure there was an ulcer developing in the lining of his stomach. 

She huffed out a seemingly carefree response. “ _I’m_ not meddling. You are.” 

“Semantics.” 

“You’ve been around long enough to know that semantics is all that really matters, at least when it comes to the bullshit rules Gods like to throw around.” 

That much at least was true. The Gods were worse than the slimiest lawyers when it came to finding and exploiting loopholes in agreements. Still, he felt uneasy when he gazed down upon the couple in the bed. The woman’s shining blonde locks fanned out across the pillow, her face gentle and smooth in repose. It was a stark contrast to the tense and angry features of the brute lying next to her. 

“It’s dangerous, crossing over into other people’s dreams. Especially someone like him, so full of malice and vengeance. She could be torn apart by the monsters that live in his nightmares.” 

“Oh, Morphy, you say that as though she doesn’t have nightmares of her own.” 

He knew, of course. Dreams were under his sole command, nothing went on in that foggy middle place that he wasn’t aware of. Karen’s dreams were a strange combination of light-filled wonder and terror saturated darkness. He’d checked in the beginning at her mother’s behest. It had been easy to take the form of a chubby blonde adolescent, sweet and unassuming, a non-threatening confidant. He had fallen a little bit in love over the years, watching her wander through the naturescapes of her happiest slumbers. Once or twice he had flicked away impending nightmares, swishing a hand across the dark smoke clouding the edges of her unconscious. He wasn’t supposed to do that, but he hated knowing that she woke up crying more often than not. On the nights he held himself in check she’d come to school the next morning with tired puffy eyes and a somber look on her face. The guilt he felt on those mornings pushed him closer to her, made him act like a lovesick fool trying to draw a smile from her. 

She knew him as Foggy, his preferred name while walking the planet. It seemed fitting, the fog of dreams being where he spent most of his existence. They hadn’t seen one another in a long time. Demeter had sensed his growing affection, and worried that it would lead to more trouble than it was worth. He’d agreed to slowly disappear, knowing that his feelings had been unrequited regardless of what her mother thought. 

But seeing her with Frank bothered him. He couldn’t see the merit in twisting up Karen’s fate with the God of the underworld. Frank was volatile, and if anyone had asked Foggy he would have told them the dark God was morally dubious. Centuries of pent up anger all came spilling out when he finally fell asleep, which wasn’t all that often, and Foggy had vivid memories of the few times he was subjected to the hellscape that was Hades’ dreams. The Gods had no real need for slumber. But being here on earth, feeling human exhaustion, was really the only thing that pushed them to it, and Frank spent more time on the earthly plane than any of the other gods. It had only taken a tiny nudge from Foggy’s powers to send Frank over the edge. 

Frank shifted in his sleep, and Foggy twitched. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure his powers were strong enough to keep the God of the underworld asleep against his will, and he didn’t care to find out what damage Frank could do to another God. His fear subsided when Frank swung his arm across Karen’s waist. It was replaced by a faint zip of jealousy. He quickly pushed it away. 

“What exactly do you think this will accomplish?” 

“Frank likes to put on the facade of an angry asshole, but he is a protector more than anything else.” 

“I don’t know about that.” 

“No _you_ don’t know,and I don’t care to hear your uninformed opinion on the matter. I need him to see what Karen has lived through, what she is currently battling with, and what is coming for her. I need him… ” She trailed off, sudden sadness suffusing her features. “I need him to fix my mistake, and he won’t do it for me, but maybe he’ll do it for her. She keeps a cage around her true self. He just needs to see.” 

* * *

Karen liked the feel of her hand ensconced in his. It was warm, the callouses along his palm were reassuring even if he was holding her fingers a little too tightly, as though she might float away if he let go. She might just do that. Nothing seemed fixed in place here. 

They walked along the road. It was surprisingly dry after the storm, the dirt packed down hard and smooth. She liked the feel of it beneath her toes, a deep heat radiating up from the earth and into her soles. “So this is a dream… but you’re not a dream?” 

Frank kept striding with purpose, walking a little faster than she would have liked. What did it matter how long it took them to get to their destination (wherever that was)? It’s not like time meant anything in dreams. He seemed so urgent, ignoring her question. 

Thunder rumbled in the distance, dark purple clouds on the horizon building up high and higher like thunderheads ready to burst open at any moment. She wondered why they were heading toward the storm and not away from it. There was still a strange buzzing in the air behind them. Maybe that was part of it. 

“Where are we going?” 

This time Frank glanced at her sideways, the muscles in his jaw working as though he were trying to figure out what to say. “We’re going where _it_ happened. Whoever is doing this seems to want to show you the absolute worst moment of my entire life, and I just want to get it over with.” 

She frowned. “It? What is it? And what do you mean ‘whoever is doing this’?” 

Frank stopped abruptly, the sudden shift of momentum throwing Karen off balance. He swiftly moved to catch her, a steadying hand resting on her lower back. “Someone had drugged or enchanted the both of us. I can’t make myself wake up, and that’s not normal for me. And you’re here in my dreams with me, the real you, not some figment of my imagination. Crossing into other people’s dreams is no small thing. So obviously there’s some kind of bullshit at work here. And because the Greek gods are a bunch of assholes, the only way to get to the bottom of it all is to play through the whole thing. There are no shortcuts, no emergency exits.” 

His words tumbled out in a rush, and for the first time since Karen woke up in this strange place she was afraid. The shutters were gone from his expression, panic riding along the edge of his voice. The pain in his eyes took her breath away. She reached up to touch him, craving a connection, yearning to offer some comfort. Laying her palm against his cheek, she asked, “What is _it_ , Frank? What are you about to relive?” 

“The murder of my wife and daughter.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad someone sent me a prompt for this Hades/Persephone AU. I honestly wouldn't have thought to do it otherwise, but it fits so well. Please feel free to let me know what you think, feedback is a big part of my motivation when writing.


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